


Bye Bye Baby

by irisirene



Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: Dubious Consent, Implied/Referenced Incest, M/M, Pseudo-Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-07-12 10:11:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15993062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irisirene/pseuds/irisirene
Summary: PWP. Elliot and Mr. Robot have sex. Set near the end of season two, but before the finale.





	Bye Bye Baby

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the song "Bye Bye Baby" by the Bay City Rollers, because I can't come up with good titles that aren't songs, lol. This is just a short blurb, meant to get me back into writing. I can't justify the pairing, haha, and I'm not gonna try. This was inspired by how nice Mr. Robot seemed in a few of the episodes of season two. Constructive criticism is welcomed, but no hate. To harken back to the old days of fic, no hate/flames XD.

“Christ, kiddo,” Mr. Robot breathes into Elliot’s neck, sounding more wrecked than Elliot has ever heard him. He can’t help but count this as a victory, but his smugness is short-lived as Mr. Robot’s dick drags against his prostate hard enough to have his vision go dark for a few exhilarating seconds. To be honest, Elliot isn’t quite sure how they got to this point, why he’s here fucking the hallucination wearing his dead father’s face, but he’s so far gone now; the ache in his own dick too extreme to bother with feeling sickened or guilty for this, so he tells himself with some small measure of success to worry about it later.  
  


 

As much as he can with the fog of lust cradling his brain, Elliot takes stock of the situation while he continues to fuck himself downwards on Mr. Robot’s dick. He’s straddling Mr. Robot and both of them are naked on the bed in Elliot’s apartment, the sheets are all over the place, tangled and hanging off of the bed, and Mr. Robot is practically lying diagonally across Elliot’s bed. Elliot is bent almost completely in half, his dick dragging across the firmness of Mr. Robot’s abdomen, and his face buried in Mr. Robot’s neck, where he’s panting out soft little half-strangled moans.  
  


 

For some reason that Elliot doesn’t want to examine too closely, as Mr. Robot continues with broken moans of praise interspersed with expletives and dirty talk, he feels the need to pull back up, to actually look down at the man (hallucination of a man, that is) as they continue screwing. Usually, Elliot tries to avoid eye-contact at all costs, especially during sex, when he’s at his most vulnerable. If he’d actually ever given any thought to this utterly insane scenario playing out before, he’d have assumed that it would only be intensified in this moment, due to the shame he’d feel about sullying his dead father’s memory in this particular way. However, there’s suddenly this bone-deep need to watch, to see this insanity unfold instead of just feeling it.

 

Elliot leans back, gasping harshly as the change in position causes Mr. Robot’s next thrust up to go in deeper than they had been. He opens his eyes almost shyly, biting his lip, looking down at this bizarre ghost-echo of his father. It should be a bucket of ice water, he thinks. It should instantly turn him off, make him go soft, and ruin the whole thing. It says a lot about him when looking down at Mr. Robot has the exact opposite effect.    
  


  
Mr. Robot offers a strangely soft half-smile at that realization, his calloused hand coming up to stroke Elliot’s cheek. “Don’t worry about it, kiddo,” he murmurs to Elliot, making him shiver, “everybody’s fucked up in one way or another. We’re not hurting anybody with this,” Mr. Robot adds, speaking softly in a way that has nothing to do with pity and everything to do with comfort. It gets under Elliot’s skin in a way that he wishes it didn’t. 

 

Mr. Robot’s thumb traces over Elliot’s plush bottom lip and Elliot draws the pad of it into his mouth, lightly biting it as their eyes stay locked. “You’re so good like that, son. So beautiful,” Mr. Robot grates out, his voice seemingly growing rougher with every passing moment as Elliot grinds down against his pelvis on each downstroke. It’s easier to draw this out like this, with his dick getting as little stimulation as possible, and Elliot also doesn’t want to think about why he wants this drag out as long as he can.

 

“Because you want it. Want me,” Mr. Robot finishes for him, his expression as caring as Elliot had ever seen it on his actual father’s face, “and I want you. God, I want you,” he continues, making Elliot cry out as those words hit deep. He’s flushed all over now, and both of them are slick with sweat. Mr. Robot’s hand slips down from his mouth to trace over bruises that have been bitten into the skin of his neck and collarbone. Who knows how long they’ve been fucking?

 

“God,” Elliot groans, his thigh muscles tensing. He’s close, so close, he can feel his orgasm approaching from the tips of his toes and fingers, throughout his body. It’s like doing ecstasy, he thinks, the way the pleasure seems like it’s coming from everywhere, his senses all tangled together. Mr. Robot chuckles breathlessly at the thought and, for once, Elliot doesn’t bristle at the knowledge that he’s being laughed at.  
  


 

“Fuck, please,” he begs, not sure of what it is that he’s begging for, what it is that he needs from Mr. Robot. His eyebrows are drawn together and his expression is one of desperation as his hands reach out to grasp at Mr. Robot’s shoulders, his movements growing more frantic as the moments tick by.    
  


  
“It’s alright, son, Daddy’s got you,” Mr. Robot assures and Elliot burns hot with the combined shame and arousal. It’s proof positive of just how screwed up of a human being he is that he gets off on that. It’ll bother him more when he comes down, Elliot’s certain. Now, though, he settles on continuing to beg.  
  


 

“Please, please, Daddy, please,” is a mantra that gets repeated so many times that Elliot can’t even begin to count. Mr. Robot rewards him by thrusting up hard into him, practically making Elliot scream in pleasure. The floor underneath his mattress and box spring creaks in rhythm with their frantic thrusts and Elliot spares a thought wondering what it is that his neighbors hear.  
  


 

That and all of his other thoughts are wiped away in the next instant with the words that come out of Mr. Robot. “Daddy loves you, Elliot. Come for me, come for Daddy. Show me that you love me,” Mr. Robot manages to order in a way that doesn’t have Elliot’s hackles rising. Elliot is coming harder than he can ever remember climaxing, the eroticism of the moment only increasing as Mr. Robot releases inside of him.    
  


  
As he comes back to himself, he’s still perched on Mr. Robot’s softening dick, starting to shake all over from the sensory overload and the shame that’s finally starting to come to the forefront of his mind. Tears prick his eyes at the knowledge of just how sick, how utterly screwed up he is, and the image of Mr. Robot beneath him becomes blurred. Mr. Robot huffs softly as those thoughts, almost as if Elliot’s self-disgust and hurt actually hurts him.

  
  


“Of course it does,” Mr. Robot says, tone just a hair short of being testy. When Elliot flinches at his tone, though, his demeanor softens once more. “Oh, baby. None of that,” he murmurs, reaching up to cup Elliot’s cheek for a moment, causing Elliot’s eyes to close. He’s starving for this kind of affection, and he knows that Mr. Robot knows that. It should remind him of the fact that he is just an illusion, another part of his mind, and it definitely shouldn’t be half as comforting as he finds it.

  
  


Elliot lets Mr. Robot tip him over and slip out of him, shivering from the coolness of the sweat starting to dry on his body. Mr. Robot pulls him over, practically pushing Elliot’s head onto his still heaving chest, and Elliot goes without a fight. “It’s okay, kid. I promise,” Mr. Robot lies, the lie so sweet to Elliot’s ears that he doesn’t even argue mentally. “I love you,” is whispered next and Elliot somehow doesn’t doubt the truth of that statement. He’s starting to drift off to sleep, cradled in Mr. Robot’s arms, and he can’t remember the last time he’s felt so safe. Whether or not that’s also an illusion, Elliot doesn’t care.


End file.
